 | Diary Navigation:
|
June 21, 2003
Wednesday night it hit me that I had a date with Bray tomorrow. But I was absolutely out to lunch on the time. I usually kick off his morning at 7:45. Though he once joked he can’t handle me any later in the day, I like to think I pop in there like a ray of sunshine. I remembered at one point I had an appointment that was at 10:15. Was it this one, or did I go late last time? With Kaillan I was counting down the minutes, this time round I forget to go even. Anyway, first things first, he asked me what we were going to negotiate today. It was the perfect opportunity for me to mention I can’t wait til July 28th to have the baby. He said fine then. The 29th.
I reminded him that Kaillan was born at 37 weeks and everything was ok. He argued (for lack of a better word, he speaks matter of factly, with finality, whist I’m whining along) that a 37 weeker is not the most ideal, it can still be born with complications, jaundice et al. I tried to explain why I couldn’t go to term. I’d say I mostly got a “so?’ out of every argument. Though for the record, it’s not easy to defend your deteterminations while you’re in the middle of an internal. He said I’m at least one centimeter dilated which means I have to keep pressure off the cervix and I need to stay lying on my side, no sitting up even. The blood pressure was 135/95. He said “you know what that means, don’t you?” to which I nodded. It’s the 95 that’s worrisome. But as I type this I realize I don’t know what that means. Would he medicate me so late in the game or plug me in the hospital? My pee-in-a-cup cup showed traces of protein so they had me pee a second time. It was like wringing out a dry sponge, I had nothing left to go. Who drinks before a weigh-in anyway? Sample number two still had traces, so now we have something else to look out for. Dr. Bray did the vaginal culture they generally reserve for three weeks before delivery (I’m at 34 weeks), so deep down I’m thinking he must not think I’m going to go another six weeks. Or maybe I’m just deeper down attempting a little hope.
When my aunt came over last Monday I had one priority. My van. I wanted to take it in to have it tuned, tinkered and oiled before the baby. When I called the dealer, I explained my circumstances and preregistered myself. I had some rust on one of the doors and it didn’t make sense since it’s still pretty new and my steering was creaking. When I got in, they said I needed oil change #7. The $199.00 one. It seemed to me a lot to pay for an oil change, but they were inspecting however many points too. I gave the key and asked them to call me before they went ahead with anything else.
On the way home we stopped at Walmart and I got on one of those remote control wheel chair carts. Brandan was over the moon and eeek did we pull off some wild sharp turns. For someone who’s always on the run, it was tough to cruise around at a turtle pace, and I have to admit I was shy in the chair, I really hoped I wouldn’t run over someone I knew. I got all kinds of nods and smiles and then one woman shocked the flip flops off of us. She was older, maybe in her seventies, and she point blank asked my aunt if I was a cripple. In front of me, as if I wasn’t there! I was so busy thinking ‘what did she say???’ that I didn’t hear our response. I don’t know the woman from a hole in the wall and though I’d like to think she felt like a heel for flubbering such a rude question, I did feel angry for all the people who have to deal with such fools every day of their lives. It infuriates me even. Say something kind or warm or just put a sock in it.
Remo had a really nice Father’s Day if I do say so myself and the best present of all had to be Brandan’s soccer game. Because I’m out of commission, Remo’s dad came over to go with them. Nonno is crazy about Brandan and it was the first time he’d seen Brandan play. When they left I thought about that last game where he pulled off five goals and hoped he wouldn’t feel it was a pressure he had to live up to. Would he think he had to do that every time? They got back and I’m telling you, their excitement oozed from inside the house. In one, less than an hour long game, Brandan scored twelve goals. Remo said he was fantastic, his father was glowing. Save for Santa Clause, Brandan called every single person we’ve ever met in our lives. I dialed because I was so proud. Do soccer stars have to leave their mothers one day?
Eventually the service manager called to say my car was inspected and I should change my front brakes too. Lucky me, they could do it right now and the whole job would cost only $770 something. I’ve never been good at spending money on a car so I said I had to call my husband first. My husband wanted to know why I’d had a $200 oil change in the first place and told me to bring the van straight to his mechanic. I felt really guilty, cheap even when I picked up the van - til 2 hours later Remo called to say his guy had finished the van already for $275, including tax, and he did something extra even. So my advice for the day is skip the dealer, or at least be careful, because they have the potential to clean you out.
But I wasn’t finished spending money. That day I dropped $235 at Walmart, $193 at Costco, $230 at the dealer and $275 on the van, almost $1000 on nothing really real. Though technically, I really did have something to show for it, you can’t wear an oil change or sit on salmon, I FELT like I’d spent money on nothing. Two days before, Remo lost a cheque for nearly $1000 and he tore apart everything to find it. I didn’t think it was the end of the world, we could have it cancelled and reissued. But then again I lose something every single day of my life and Remo is a put it in it’s place person. He was looking in toy bins the kids hadn’t opened in ages, shaking out magazines we hadn’t read yet and making me crazy. A bed rested person waits all day for her husband to come home and she has a lot more important things for him to do. The second day he even went through all the garbage bags. When he eventually, miraculously found it under the recycling bin (after I swore a hundred times, it’s gone, gone, gone), he went and had a shower and came down to watch one of our reality shows. Then I remembered my own missing money crisis. Me with my double standard.
That morning I had a hundred dollar bill on the counter, Brandan picked it up and folded it in an impossibly small square. I told him he had to put it beside my purse downstairs, and then I saw the time, holy smokes, Dee Dee was probably at the garage already, we had to hustle out the door. Only later, in one of the stores, I remembered Brandan had that money. I asked him where it was and he sheepishly couldn’t remember. It wasn’t in any of his pockets, he forgot it at home. Later that night I remembered I had forgotten to look for it. Now at this point I was wiped and feeling a little nervous because I’d pushed it that day and I think I was frustrated with Remo because he was so busy with his things he wasn’t helping with kidlet/house stuff I deemed imperative and could he please go look in the front hall or the garage for the hundred dollar bill Brandan lost??? The what, he asked? I explained what happened and he said forget it. It’s gone. He was too tired to look and forget it, it’s gone. I asked him to just go look in the garage on Brandan’s side of the van. He phhffd me again, forget it. Now that made me crazy. I spent all that money that day, and we couldn’t cancel and reissue a hundred dollar bill. I gave him an ultimatum. You go look or I get off my left side and go myself. I think I was testing him. And I think it had been building. When he didn’t move, I bolted up and looked for maybe twenty seconds before I found it. When fifteen minutes later he was asleep, his snoring only made me madder. I know he’s been working so hard he’s wiped, and he’s over his head with work and I’ve been pretty impressive about not adding more pressure, but I really need some help now too. Sometimes I think what infuriates me about men, or at least mine, is the more you do, the more they’ll let you do. As much as he can get away with at least. In fairness, Remo is fantastic, without a lazy bone in his body and when he’s not working like a maniac, he cheerfully helps me with most things around the house. But at this particular moment, I was choked with him. So I left him sleeping downstairs with a kink in his neck. I never leave him downstairs; he’d know I was REALLY mad this time. The next morning I spoke to my girlfriend who said I should give him the cold shoulder. Perfect! When he called later on that day (he never calls), I kept things to the point. He asked if I was watching soap operas. Ha! Like that’s ALL I do all day! When he called again a couple hours later (he especially never calls twice), I forgot I was mad and life went on. Though I pretty much suck at cold shouldering, it must have had somewhat of an effect because he’s been pretty helpful since then.
I guess I should chat a bit about the Kaillanator, it’s been a while. Kaillan’s been talking up a storm, so much more than I remember Brandan doing. Is it a personality thing, a girl thing or just that I don’t remember well? She recognizes most colours and seems to have an insatiable need to learn. I remember Brandan having more of a need to ‘do’. Though she’s always busy, she’s really happy to sit and cuddle and read a book. And talk. She’ll tell us what Nana did three days ago just to have something to talk about. She’s also been doing a decent amount of peeing in the potty. In all fairness, I’ve been reluctant about starting it because it’s not great timing for us. Doing it properly takes more gumption than we have right now. When she’s with me by myself, I can’t up and sit with her in there and the hospital stay will turn everything upside down. I figured I’d wait till those first weeks after the baby when we’re sticking around home, and then work at it consistently with Andree when she’s over there. I told myself she wasn’t ready anyway. But she wakes up dry in the morning and she’s interested, so while I still would prefer to hold off potty training, I don’t want to miss out on a good chance.
Yesterday was Matthew’s birthday and I thought a lot about how different our lives would be had he been here today. He’d have been three years old. Then I thought we wouldn’t have had Kaillan had we had him. Or would she have come later? The whole thing is mind boggling if you try to figure it out. My favorite part of the early morning (we’re all up before six every day), is that one of the kids will always cuddle with me, it just somehow works out that there’s just one of them. Brandan climbed in bed with me and we talked a bit about what made this day different from all the others, we talked about how Matthew’s in heaven and he had a question or more to ask about how all that happened again. A bit later I asked him the same question I’ve asked him forever while I was plastering him with smooches, “who’s your favorite?” He gave me the same answer he’s given me forever, “you and Papa and Kaillan and the new baby, you’re all my favorite”. He’s always fair. Then a few minutes later he asked if I knew who his real favorite is. Matthew.
Aw, shucks.
Fridays are supposed to be Remo’s early night and the plan on this one was to go to the cemetery. When he managed to make it home by 8:30, I wasn’t mad, just disappointed. I wanted to get there before the sun went to sleep. The ride over there was loud because Kaillan had to hold ALL the helium balloons and shrieked when she noticed Brandan had the end of the ribbons. Remo told her we’d buy her french fries if she stopped crying. She stopped. Now there’s valuable parenting for you. Brandan started asking more questions about Matthew, like how did he actually GET to heaven. We got to the cemetery and unloaded out of the car and we let the balloons go one by one. Kaillan thought this was fantastic and squeeled and skipped between us. It was actually a special moment. The sun was setting, with not a cloud in the sky and all the balloons followed each other higher and farther than we could imagine, as if they really were going to a very special place, to our special little boy. I got in the car, settled into recline and chanced upon the clock: 8:59. The exact time Matthew was born. We drove off to get Kaillan some french fries.
Which leaves me at today. Kaillan is over at Remo’s parents where she has the power to run the show. And then some. We’ve got working men up the kazoos doing on the landscaping here. Remember when two months ago I said I’d have grass in two weeks? It didn’t happen. Brandan and Remo are off to the soccer game and then in an hour POOF, they’ll turn into working men too. Tonight Claudia and Karim are taking Brandan and Sabrina to VIP seats at the international fireworks show and my big plan is to set up the crib and pack the hospital bag. I’ve been Ivory Snowing the baby paraphernalia for two months now and for the record, I’m still doing laundry in the machine I have to manually kick start every spin cycle. Many husbands present their wives with jewelry at the birth of their child? I better get a 3 load, 17 cycle washing machine. That sorts too.
I’m trying to think if I learned anything useful this week I could share. Apparently there’s a way to turn your rearview and side mirrors on the car so that you actually don’t have blind spots. I caught it quick and need to test it at some point, but they seemed to be pushing the outside top corner in a bit, if that makes sense. It’s worth playing with. Toss a little container of bubbles in your diaper bag for those times when you need a great distraction (waiting at the doctor’s, in a line or at a restaurant). To get crayon marks off painted walls and wood, rub with baking soda and a damp cloth or try baby oil, liquid detergent or silver polish. Distilled white vinegar removes ballpoint pen and stickers. I read somewhere a tip on how to make cleanup easier for blocks or legos or anything else that comes with tons of pieces. Keep a table cloth or a sheet handy and have the kids play on top of that. Then at the end, you only have to pick up all the corners and slide the stuff back into the bin. Takes two seconds.
And with that, I’d best be moving on. It’ll take me more than two seconds to catch up on some posts and sort out that box of paper crap I’ve been collecting for a year.
Out yonder through that window, it’s a stunningly beautiful day today. I wish one for you too. May I meet you back here later in the week with a baby that stayed put. For at least two more weeks.
With still no boy name,
Allisun
 |  |
|
want to keep a diary on iParenting?
Authoring a diary on the iParenting network allows you to chronicle your family's story, preserving it for years to come. It's also a great way to get the most out of the iParenting community. Click here to start...
|
The iParenting Media Awards program helps parents find the best products for their families. 
